


I Looked in Your Eyes and I Saw Myself, Kid

by therapybegins



Series: Into The Stars [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: And a Hug, F/M, Jyn needs a break, Jyn/Han relationship is minor, Kestrel Dawn - Freeform, Liana Hallik - Freeform, Lyra Rallik, Nari McVee - Freeform, Tanith Ponta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:38:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therapybegins/pseuds/therapybegins
Summary: “Why did you come back for me?” she had asked, her heart pounding. She felt like she was going to explode. No one else had ever come back for her like this when she was injured, especially Saw. Every Partisan for themselves. That was their mantra. She was always alone, so terribly alone. Han had looked at her, all traces of snark and humor gone from his eyes. “Because when I look at you, kid,” he said, “I see myself.” Nari’s lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. Kestrel cried, so Nari never could. Nari wanted to kiss Han, though. And hit him. The last person to give up something for her had died.





	I Looked in Your Eyes and I Saw Myself, Kid

**Author's Note:**

> Some backstory for Jyn's character. Not necessary to have read other installments to understand what's going on (not that there are many other installments at the moment).

Kestrel was born out of excitement and hope, but was forged by heartbreak and guilt. She understood now that she could not go by her given name, or she would be betrayed. She couldn’t give any indication that she was Jyn Erso or it meant death.

First it was the man in white with the Death Troopers. At the time Jyn didn’t know what they were called, but she had learned the hard way when she was ten, high on adrenaline. She and the Partisans had blown up a supply landing pad and she had run away laughing, only to stumble down a hill and land right at the feet of a black-clad bucket head. She thought she was going to die, the soldier’s blaster pointed at her head from alarm. He didn’t shoot her. Instead he helped her to her feet and told her to get to safety. “There are rebels starting a riot.” She had looked at him with real fear and ran into the crowd, thankful to not be caught. It wasn’t until later when she hovered near Saw, demanding answers, that she learned what they were called, who exactly they protected, and just how close she came to death. Later, as she tried to sleep over the snoring of the rest of the Partisans, she understood that the man in white was a high-ranking officer - someone so well protected she never stood a chance of enacting her revenge.

The second time was on Tamsye Prime. Saw had clunked his way to the door to her room, one of the few instances where their hideout allowed for privacy. “We need you to create identities for the mission.” Saw’s voice was gruff and hoarse and moved over Jyn like smooth Chandrila butter, warming her to her toes in a way she would never utter to anyone. Saw was her comfort in a way that she knew was dangerous. She was sixteen and now knew that attachments to anyone caused problems. Reece Tallent taught her that when he decided to manipulate her for sex and then discard her. She cut off his ear for that. Jyn had been so excited for the mission, to prove her worth to the Partisans. She chose her name carefully: Kestrel Dawn. Kestrel for her mother, Dawn for the mornings she spent watching the sun rise in her father’s lap. It was worthless, in the end. Reece betrayed the Partisans because of who she was and Saw killed Reece and abandoned her because of who she was.

The third time her past caught up with her killed the Pontas. She had foolishly called herself by her first name, thinking that Kestrel couldn’t protect her. She lost her third family from that mistake, rejecting Hadder’s idea of joining the Rebellion. Maybe he was right, Kestrel would later reflect, but she didn’t trust them anymore. If that was Saw’s open disdain for the Rebels or her own distrust of organized fighting groups, she couldn’t say. All she knew now was that Jyn Erso brought death.

So Kestrel Dawn became the best slicer she could be in the Mid Rim, hopping from planet to planet to remove any trace of Jyn Erso she could. She created false names for herself to pick up work and make some identities overlap in duration of stay to throw of anyone that could feel inclined to follow her. Kestrel Dawn survived through paranoia, until she settled on a planet out of sheer exhaustion, shifting Kestrel’s identity to word of mouth, rather than her own person.

 

Nari dyed her hair hot pink because Kestrel would hate it. Kestrel would hate how the color would make her stand out and prevent her from blending into the crowd. Kestrel’s long brown hair was perfect to pull back or put into the local style, but Nari’s hair? Her hair was wild and in a bob that allowed for hair to get in her eyes and now pink and would make her memorable to troopers.

Nari put make-up on because Kestrel would hate it. Kestrel would hate how long it took to put on, detracting precious minutes required for wiring a bomb or trap or running to the next target. Make-up required practice and knowing more than how to redesign a face (so she could see its uses she just didn’t care for it when  _ running _ was a better, safer option). Kestrel never bothered with make-up, but Nari was a master at it.

Nari wore brightly colored clothes because Kestrel would hate it. Kestrel would hate the teal pants and the lemon-yellow shirt that didn’t allow for an easily concealed blaster or the grey flats that were terrible for  _ running _ . The entire outfit was impractical for survival, Kestrel would think.

Nari looked at herself in the mirror and could almost see Kestrel snarling at her, seething about how much she stood out.

Nari loved it. Nari loved that she looked like a fresh-faced nineteen-year-old that worked at the bar to help pay for her education. She loved that she looked nothing like Kestrel, the  _ girl _ that almost got her killed. Nari, though, Nari was a woman who knew how to survive, no matter the city. She could fight if she had to, she could do her job well, and she was just fine with her side business that was a smidge illegal, but Nari? For the most part she was normal.

Glanced over.

Disregarded.

Unthreatening.

Nothing like Kestrel.

And she loved it.

 

Tanith looked at her reflection in the ship’s grimy mirror. The bleach trickled down her neck, too thin from unsteady hands when pouring the developer. Her green eyes were bright and glassy in her reflection, highlighted from the harsh lighting overhead. She looked gaunt and pale, eyes bruised and lips cracked and cheeks puffy from fighting. She looked down at her naked body, goose-flesh persistent in the cold, dry air. The blaster wound on her stomach ached and blistered, but was well on its way to healing from the bacta patch she left on it for a few hours. The scrapes on her legs and arms itched, but there was nothing more she could do about that short of submerging in bacta, but the ship wasn’t equipped with that and she didn’t have enough money for that either.

Tanith checked her hair again. It was light enough now, all traces of color gone. Tanith moved to the shower and turned it on to slightly colder than lukewarm. The Millennium Falcon had water showers, which Tanith thought strange but was grateful for to remove the bleach from her hair. Either Han Solo took pleasure in the simple things, which made a little since but did not add up to his love of money, or the previous owner installed it. Tanith bet on the latter.

She took the opportunity to scrub herself clean, soaking in a luxury she hadn’t felt since she was a small girl. After she was certain the bleach was all gone, she turned the temperature up until it stung her wounds. She needed to make sure her docs were in order for when Han stopped feeling guilty for destroying her life and decided to dump her. She would take anything she could get from him and he was green enough that he might just fall for any of her antics. He did, after all, come to her asking for docs and then promptly compromised himself and through that, compromised her.

Tanith turned the shower off and stepped out. She let water drip on the floor. The system would pull moisture out as soon as she left the room, such as the conservation system worked. She dried herself off with her small towel, shivers beginning to travel through her body. Her duffel bag would have warm clothes.

Everything in the bag suited Tanith just fine. The moment Han had knocked on her door, hair ruffled and eyes wild, Tanith knew Nari had to die. She grabbed the bag she kept for emergencies and the credit chips under her bed and followed the smuggler out her door. Everything in the bag was the opposite of Nari.

Instead of bright clothes and make-up, it held clothes of greens and blues and browns and her slicer equipment. It held all of her truncheons and blasters and vibroblades. Essentially, it held everything that Nari hated, with the exception of the slicer tools. It was the only thin Tanith had in common with her - her gift at creating new identities and forging documents. But Tanith new that after Han, she couldn’t make another forged document for anyone else. It would be too much of a connection. It would be too traceable.

Tanith dressed herself in light brown pants designed for space travel, a long-sleeved blue tunic and a dark brown jacket. Her hair had finally grown out long enough to pull into a short braid, something she decided would be a signature look for her.

She would need a new profession - preferably something other than Nari’s bar-tending. Perhaps she could convince Han that he needed help. Having her on board could help sell the idea of a legitimate business to any troopers who thought to investigate. Perhaps his guilt would sway him if she pushed just right.

“Why did you come back for me?” she had asked, her heart pounding. She felt like she was going to explode. No one else had ever come back for her like this when she was injured, especially Saw. Every Partisan for themselves. That was their mantra. She was always alone, so terribly alone. Han had looked at her, all traces of snark and humor gone from his eyes. “Because when I look at you, kid,” he said, “I see myself.” Nari’s lip trembled, but she didn’t cry. Kestrel cried, so Nari never could. Nari wanted to kiss Han, though. And hit him. The last person to give up something for her had died.

Tanith sucked in a breath and made her way to the cockpit to talk to Han. If she desired a physical relationship with him she needed to secure employment with him first. She sat down behind him and Chewie. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “How long until we make port?”

Han looked at her, noticing her different posture and clothes She looked tired, but alert in a way that she hadn’t seemed before. He realized he didn’t even know her real name, just her slicer code. He ignored her question and asked his own, “No normal kid who works at a bar takes a blaster wound like that. Who are you really, kid?

“Tanith,” she said, “Tanith Ponta,” and it was the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m willing to take prompts for this series :)


End file.
